where silence has lease
by Eternal Tiet
Summary: If life was a book that's meant to be read, could one line change the course of the story? Sometimes, it's better those words were left unwritten. Written by Ashbear.
1. Chapter I

**Note:** A small portion will be purposely written in a stylistic choice; it is meant to illustrate a character's clouded thoughts.

.

~o~O~o~

**where silence has lease**

~o~O~O~o~

Close your eyes.

What's the most terrifying sound you can hear? What's the most horrific sound you can imagine?

Is it the unheard pleas on the battlefield - the broken warrior begging for help?

Is it the crackle you hear as the lightning flashes - the roaring thunder that shakes one's very foundation?

Or is it the shrill sound that emanates from the heart monitor – that shattering feeling of hopelessness as doctors hover to save a life?

It's none of those.

Not even close.

It's the sound of nothingness. The absence. The void.

Isn't it the _silence_ we fear most?

It's when the soldier stops begging; when the storm becomes deathly calm, or when the monitor's tone is silenced – it's only then when we hear what terrifies us the most.

It's only then when we come face-to-face with the greatest enemy - the unknown.

Purgatory. Those moments in between life and death.

Where silence hovers. Where fear lives.

And that's what I hear now.

…Nothing.

.

~o~O~O~o~

.

The thing I remembering hearing first - silence. I usually welcome it, prefer it to company, but this felt different. Unfriendly. cold.

…Cold?

It suddenly hit me. After the silence, it's what registered next. I'm numb. Freezing… no, wait. burning? I can't figure out anything, not even the temperature around me; hot and cold have become synonymous with each another.

Numb, silent, in a perpetual state of drunken haziness - that's what I feel. heaviness. Nothing feels right, but I need to move; I need to do something that isn't fighting myself in thoughts.

I hate feeling… tired. weak.

It's disjointed, but it's coming back. I remember feeling weak._ déjà vu. _It's fragmented, but I've had these thoughts not long ago – was it minutes, hours… days? I seem to recall this almost foreign desire to give in. But I'd remembered there was a reason. I won't; I can't. Failure was a fleeting thought - a side-effect born out of the silence. But no matter how brief it was, _it did_ cross my mind. I let myself allow weakness in; I can't forgive that.

I won't be weak. failure.

Even now it's like I'm internally battling to regain consciousness; at least, _this_ state is what my mind accepts as conscious. But I need to believe in myself, because I also believe in her. She's here. Somewhere… close. We won't die like this - so undignified, so unfitting. I won't allow it and neither will she. If this is an end – an end that I can't remember right now – we'll be together, we'll say our peace…

No, we'll fight. live.

As I tried to move, I wanted to scream but that required strength; strength I'm not willing to waste on frivolous things like my pain. The pain triggered something – something that helped me regain focus. A little. It's enough to note that my hair's matted, a mix of blood and dirt blood; blood and more blood. It's crusted and dried, coating my face like a second skin. As I winced and my facial muscles contracted, I felt the dried substance crack, but it still remained firmly against my skin.

Familiar. _This _feeling is familiar. I've traveled down this road, many times. This wasn't my first fight. Fight?

No. A fight doesn't seem right.

…Yet, the metallic taste in my mouth also begs to differ. The pungent taste is nauseating, as is its familiar smell; my senses are slowly waking – _for now_. My mouth is dry, but I managed enough saliva to rinse the pockets of dried blood. I turned my head and every part of my body cried out in agony. Again, won't give the pain the pleasure of acknowledging its existence. I spit, a futile effort, but it's a start.

That hazy sensation returns – broken and defeated – as I did my best to open my eyes.

I see a void. nothing.

I don't know what I was expecting but silence and darkness go hand-in-hand; beautiful and grotesque. It's often what I desire, but now it's what I fear.

Even in the darkness, I bowed my head to look down.

_I felt her._

As looked down to what I couldn't see, my eyes started burning – it was different. It wasn't the familiar it was… different.

And then I remembered. everything.

The memories came crashing down on me like the cavern's walls had. Rinoa and I were together, trapped among the rubble and rocks. We'd gone to lunch in Balamb and then I wanted to make a stop… here. She didn't want to. I remember now; it was my responsibly to protect her, but I didn't listen.

…Listen?

Nothing. As everything was starting to come back together it became even more horrifying. In the darkness I found only silence. It didn't last much longer as my ragged breathing seemed to increase, it was difficult to breathe, not from the broken bones or injuries something else. Gas. an explosion.

I coughed; the gas burned my lungs as I inhaled, but had to steady myself. I'd trained for this – I'd trained to protect her. Rinoa and I had become condemned prisoners of the cave; the gas was a poison slowly gnawing away at our existence.

There was a good chance that this lucidness was temporary. I needed to remain positive but, as reality set in, so again did that flash of desperation. Had I woken up before and had these same thoughts? It was déjà vu, but how many cycles, if any, had passed?

It didn't matter, because I'd do everything within my power to make this time different. It would be different; whatever happens, we would face it together. But I needed to wake her; I need to think it still is possible. Being optimistic isn't something that comes naturally to me. I'm not naïve enough to believe it ever can be, but it has become easier and that's more than either of us would've ever imagined.

I'm beginning to wonder if the gas is starting to thin or if I'm too far gone to separate fantasy and reality. I woke from the fog enough to realize that Rinoa's right here. She's been resting against my side the entire time – and if that's fantasy, you can keep your damned reality. But it took me far too long to realize she was here. It doesn't matter if it's pitch black or if I feel like shit, it _never_ should've taken me this long. I won't offer an excuse; excuses are for the weak.

The only consolation to my failure is that she's near, but for once having her near isn't enough. I want to hear her heart beat. I want to hear her breathe. I simply want to hear _her._

"Rin."

My voice is barely recognizable, even to myself. It may have been a combination of our surroundings and the fact that I had more dirt in my throat than on the cave's floor. Clearing my throat, I tried again.

"R-Rinoa."

I waited and waited before I called louder.

…And there it was, the scariest sound one could ever hear - _nothing._

The silence bordered on deafening… it took everything inside not to assume the worst. It's easier to believe in the bad than hope for the good. Yet, as I push past those fears, I begin to feel her on more than just a physical level. The bond we share is weak, but it's there. Barely.

"Please…"

The single word was all I could choke out. Softer, more desperate than anything before. I hated being helpless, but the choice was not mine. With my upper torso, I did my best to nudge her awake. It was harder than I intended but I no longer could mask my desperation. Pain surged through my body and I let out an involuntary gasp in response. I knew even before moving my arm was broken… and that was only the beginning.

Bones will mend, losing her won't.

Maybe she heard me or maybe she was just reacting to being touched, but she finally began to stir. She moaned softly and then proceeded to string a few cryptic syllables together. I don't know if they were supposed to be words but, to me, it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever said.

She was alive. Maybe I knew that, but I wouldn't accept it without confirmation.

"…Wh?"

I believed she regained her bearings enough to speak, yet her voice was ragged. Again, it was something that didn't sound her own. Ironic, sometimes I wish she'd talk less, now I wish she could speak more. But she _could _still speak, that's all that mattered.

"Shhh, stay calm."

Her first instinct was to move, it usually is, but that doesn't mean your body is capable. It's like waking up from the deepest sleep; your brain trying to process long before the rest your body can. Senses return - one by one - voices often sound acute, and everything around you feels hollow. And in the dark, it's far worse. I need her to know that she wasn't alone; I was there. I had no idea how extensive her injuries were but I couldn't think about that – _yet._

"Squall?"

She sounded desperate and I could feel her body tense in fear. I knew_ that_ feeling, that feeling of finally coming to and opening your eyes only to face darkness… and silence.

You never completely forget that feeling of desperation – searching to find the familiar. I wanted to be that familiar.

"Rinoa, I'm here."

There was nothing more I wanted to do than put my arm around her, comfort her, whisper to her that it would be all right. I couldn't do the first part for more than one reason, but I could do the second.

Even if the words were a lie, it was a lie that needed to be told. "I'm here. It's going to be all right. Promise."

Another piece of irony. Promises and words were easily said, but harder to keep. I told her once to 'stay close.' Maybe if she hadn't _stayed close_ she wouldn't be here now. I'll never forgive myself for this. I'm supposed to be the one to protect her, but she was the one who risked her life to protect me… I'd forgotten that until this moment. I hope she forgets it too.

Her body relaxed, at least I'd been able to offer some comfort.

"…I don't… where… I?"

"It's okay, you need to keep calm. Do you remember where we are?"

"…No. Yes. Fragments? …Maybe?"

"It's okay." With my good arm, as in the one that might've only been fractured in a half-dozen places, I reached out to her. My eyelids closed and I found myself squeezing them tightly together as an outlet. They watered from the pain as I hoped this would soon reach its crescendo, but to acknowledge it existence would give it control over me.

The second I could touch her with my own hand, I believed it would've all been worth it. But as my fingers brushed against her stomach, she gasped before letting out a guttural cry. That wasn't good. I knew it. I'd caused this by touching her, and if that hadn't cut me enough, she started coughing, desperate sobs relayed what I understood all-too-well.

"Something in the air, it may be thinning." And that's all I said.

For all the anguish I'd caused her, for the pain my touch had caused; for leaving lunch early and saying to get the damn pumpkin pie back at Garden - because Ithought dessert wasn't a productive use of time. I prioritized gathering materials over spending time with her and the only apology I could offer was about the air thinning.

She'd stopped coughing, but her breathing was still forced.

"…Great," she mumbled, although I wasn't sure why. I could tell she seemed hesitant; I couldn't see her, but there was something inside me that could see it as plain as day.

"Squall… I don't remember. I'm-" she didn't make it any further before she started to cry.

Part of me was glad she didn't remember. I didn't want her to know the truth.

"That's all right, it's normal under these circumstances."

"_Normal,"_ she scoffed in between quiet sobs. "What about us in normal?"

Either the gas wasn't thinning or my body was going to shut down, protecting itself from the pain. It was becoming all I could do to keep my eyes open - it wasn't as if the view would change. I couldn't close them and with the realization opened them with a start.

"We're normal," I said, trying to do 'lighthearted' to the best of my ability. "Defeating a time-compressing sorceress, saving the world, making a pot of coffee and completing the Timber Maniacs' crossword before the crack of dawn… that is a routine as old as time. Although, the fact you'd be up before the crack-of-dawn, or anyway in its general vicinity, is slightly abnormal."

"It's bad if you're trying to be funny."

"I resent that – trying"

I didn't often do humor. It usually came off as curt and my sarcastic replies tended to offend most people, although I sure as hell thought them, but Rinoa saw through that. It's the small things you think of at times like this.

She managed a small laugh – forget her random syllables earlier - _that_ was easily the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard.

"Thank you," she whispered. Again, she didn't explain, but I understood.

I found myself sighing, I doubted she'd let go of asking why we were here, I sure wouldn't.

"Rin, we were in here to look for some Caterchipillars, remember for the changing seasons how they sometimes go into caves… Anything coming back… at all?"

I honestly hoped it wasn't but I had to ask.

"No… well, a little."

"We were going to gather some Spider Webs Quistis needed for a class. I volunteered to get them."

"Commander Squall Leonhart and community service liaison, extraordinaire"

"Hardly," I scoffed. "Unless community service entails casting a Petrify spell on the junior cadets until they're at least thirteen and not recklessly running laps around the hallways. If so, then yeah, sign me up."

"You really are a meanie."

She was right, I was a 'meanie' because I actually would've petrified the cadets until they were sixteen, tossing in Zell and Irving for good measure, but I was being generous for her sake.


	2. Chapter II

~o~O~o~

**Chapter II**

~o~O~O~o~

I found myself clinging to each word we managed.

Our strained and pointless banter had transformed into its own version of poetry. Personal and intimate, something the world would never share. I craved to hear her say _one _more word; to listen to _one_ last story. A sobering thought. Because with words came hope and that somehow shattered the silence.

And when they stopped.

(and they would)

When the silence took over...

(like a cancer)

She wasn't ready. Neither of us were.

(is anybody?)

Once I thought I'd… No. That was before. It changed.

(since her)

When your eyes are firmly cast on your own mortality, priorities and perspectives change – doubts and regret become as smothering as any physical object. The fact that I'd avoided the crux of her question became my crushing weight. The truth would surface (…_unless_) and the thought of Rinoa blaming herself was something I couldn't live with… even if 'living' had a finite definition.

She would think this was her fault; I _knew_ it was mine. Two opinions both true - both false.

That reminded me of a theory Instructor Aki once lectured about during class. As I sit listening to Rinoa fight for breath, as I sense each shattered bone beneath my skin… I realize to those who will eventually lead the search party – for that brief time – we'll be both alive and dead.

A concept that I 'understood' sitting in a classroom, but never comprehended until life became my teacher. Aki will never know that his words got through to at least one student. If only this newfound clarity didn't charge such a high price.

Rinoa made a sound akin to a mouse's squeak; I looked down to where she rested beside me although utterly futile. I quickly realized I wasn't supposed to be hearing her. I don't even think she realized that she was thinking out loud and what fragmented pieces I could make out - hurt. I constantly instill others not to jump to conclusions without facts. I wish I could follow my own advice.

"_Spend time, no. Not me with me... lunch nerve. Quistis… always. Balamb and here? How did this… How?" _

When she repeated the last word with such desperation, I felt sick. I knew she'd never let the 'how' go. As I said before, I couldn't. Rinoa and I were more alike than Garden's population care to admit.

_They_ would say determined.

Yet,_ they _would say she was stubborn.

Nobody gave a damn the root quality was the same. One carried a negative of connotation and the other positive. Perspective is a hell of a thing.

Thinking about perspective, (on blame. all mine) I needed to make sure she understood the truth.

The truth as it _was,_ not as how she saw it.

Taking a deep breath, I began. "Rin-"

Nothing else escaped that wasn't deep, hoarse coughing. Leave it to me to readily inhale that shit into my lungs. I tensed as my body began to spasm. It felt like a serrated knife slowly carving its way up the whole of my body. Between the wave of nausea and broken ribs using my lungs as pin cushion, it was all I could do to keep conscious. My body cried to shut itself down, just for a moment.

Fight. My mind screamed fight (not for me.)

Rinoa depended on me as much I depended on her - another sobering thought. Still, I was here. She wasn't alone. it would be so easy to close my eyes and rest…. just for. a moment. a single moment. a temporary escape. the pain.

"…Squall!" she choked out.

My eyes flung open, I didn't think I'd slept, but hearing the fear in her voice seemed to point otherwise. Time was no longer relative and sanity was something that needed to be questioned.

"I'm fine." The words were harsh. I was angry at weakness (my failure.)

"Why can't we remember?"

That confirmed what I knew: she'd assumed my memories were as jostled as hers. They _had been._ At first. I didn't tell her otherwise.

"Squall, do you…" She hesitated. I knew that she'd caught on. "…remember?"

It was an accusation disguised as a question.

This time the silence said something else.

My guilt.

"…Oh."

I wanted to apologize. (I wasn't sorry) I wanted to hold her, to reach out, to touch my lips to hers. To do anything but have her face this; I wanted to give her pleasure, but all I delivered was pain.

Her momentary silence spoke the words she could not. She was hurt, not upset.

Her pain became a catalyst to unlocking the truth.

"We pulled off the road… onto the plains. North. We went north. That… feels right."

With every memory that resurfaced, my stomach dropped. It wouldn't be long; the pictures would become more lucid as her mind cleared. For someone who abhorred weakness, hell I was its epitome. I've never felt more cowardice in my life.

I needed to be the one to tell her, I-

She jolted up. The pain must've been overwhelming. The blood-curling scream sliced through the silence, cutting me in the process.

"…God, the ceiling, falling… Everywhere!"

I knew that terror in her voice; it was the same feeling I had trying to reach her as everything came crashing down. Desperate pants between cries never ended as she fought the onslaught of memories.

And I…I relived every moment with her. A torrent of broken words, gasps, and panicked screams echoed. It was a soundtrack to death and desperation and (my) failure.

"Fira I-I…" She coughed - a sound more guttural than anything I've ever heard. It sounded… inhuman.

Gone. She was gone.

Rinoa managed to pull herself away. I felt naked. Exposed. That pain was far worse than anything my body threw at me. I didn't give a damn if I died trying; she wasn't going to blame herself.

I moved. I shouldn't have.

"Rin… my fault."

Searching the dark; in nothing. I was helpless, broken. weak. My motion was limited. My time was limited. But I wouldn't let _us _end like this.

"Don't blame… please."

That's what I was saying, but all I knew was I needed her. It was scary as hell, but I_ needed_ her. It was… it was…

…A romantic comedy penned in hell.

Coughing, choking, feeling through the rubble - hands bloody and bruised - to find her. She hadn't moved far. She couldn't. Enough to be out of reach.

It was either debris or my bones but, as I found a way to move over, a heard a constant stream of snaps and pops. I knew it all couldn't be me, but as the pain brought tears to my eyes, I knew some of it was. I found her fallen onto her side. I fell with her, no longer giving a damn about repercussions.

"Not leaving… you."

I rasped out feeling her next to me again. This was officially the worst goddamn game of hide-and-seek in history.

"…You should."

She didn't mean it. Rinoa was taking all the guilt and placing it on her. I lifted my arm to put on what I believed was her hip. For a brief moment, I mentally heard Dr. Kadowaki yelling at me that I'm doing absolutely everything wrong. I was. But it was the only way to do everything right.

"I… killed you." I felt her tremble beneath my hand. I wanted to point out that I wasn't dead, but that's not what she meant. An argument about semantics wasn't what was needed and, according to the earlier theory, I could be considered both.

"I-I," she kept repeating between coughs. She was making little sense – was it shock or worse? I had no idea what inhaling this gas would do long-term or had already done.

She leaned up, pulling away. I feared she'd try to move again. I couldn't. It was a hopeless revelation - this was how they'd most likely discover my body. I'd never thought about what position I'd die in (does anybody?) Now I knew. If she left, I'd also be alone. a damn pathetic failure. I didn't deserve to lead anyone, protect anyone. I sure as hell didn't deserve to be a knight. I was the one that killed her.

I deserved this undignified death (and more).

But she hadn't left.

She'd only pulled away. Her body expelled its contents, losing whatever traces of lunch remained. The cries of pain. I would have given her all my strength, but it would be a feeble offering at best. Time was disjointed. It felt as if she'd been in suffering forever, but that wasn't the case. All I could do was lay there as she wretched on bile until nothing was left. weak. feeble.

She moved back beside me; a comfort that I didn't deserve. She'd realized the same thing – blame was useless. This was our end but, we weren't alone. We both lay on the cavern floor, dirty, sweaty and out of breath. Gasping for air that again simply wasn't anywhere to be found.

We were together.

Funny, in another setting, if someone were to catch a glimpse, this might look like we're spent from some passionate bout of physical sex, save for our cloths and fatal injuries. I had an odd-timed humor; this was it. Here we were both world saviors - the great Commander of Balamb Garden and the sorceress who could 'destroy the world with a single wave.' _Those_ people wouldn't find themselves here.

Those people don't exist – we do – Rinoa and Squall.

Like a shooting star, a fleeting thought flashed through the darkness - one scarier than any that came before. I wished we died. Quick, together, without pain and guilt – our bodies buried beneath the earth. I wonder if our spirits would've found peace in the silence rather than fear.

In that second, I wished we were dead.

"You deserved better… better than this, better than me."

And just like that, her voice tore at me. I just wished that she was dead - we were dead. I'd given up. It was that sense of déjà vu again. The giving, the taking, the fear, the desperation and then re-finding hope.

I was ashamed of who I was, this monster I'd become. No._ I_ didn't deserve her. There was no better for me. But she did. A boyfriend who gave more than I could or say what she deserved to hear.

"Don't say that," I said it too quickly, causing me to literally choke on the words. She's patient as I again manage to calm down. I can feel the constant shaking to her body; I fear it's from the gas entering her blood stream. It's not good, I know.

I won't fail Rinoa; I won't fail myself. Again I find clarity as I assign my final missions in this life – to convince her:

She's not to blame. (I am)

She's meant everything to me the last few years. (more than words will say)

And that I lo...

She needs to know things. That's all. (damned pathetic fool)

I carefully tried to readjust my arm, draping it over her hip - it seemed a better option than her stomach early. My wrist is like a ragdoll and I noticed my arm's lost feeling – I can't say when – the nerves no longer worked replaced by painful numbness. I've convinced myself it doesn't matter because my mind can remember what she feels like. The way my calloused fingers trailed down her soft skin. I'll remember it all. Right now, that's what's driving me.

"Rinoa… this wasn't you. _You_ are the reason we're alive."

That wasn't what I wanted to say. _At all._ Yet, there it was, that's what I said.

"You warned me about gas and I… I deserve everyth-"

"Stop it!" Again, my words come out harsh, but that's a road she's_ not _going down. "You saved us."

She had. Honestly, I don't know how we're even alive; how she managed a Protect spell after being hit with a large chunk of the cave's ceiling. Her magic had been weak, all but draining her, but it was that sacrifice that allowed us this time. The thought made me twinge – a second ago I'd wished it was over quickly, but yet Rinoa did everything in her power (and then some) to spend these final minutes together.

I refuse to say this time is for our goodbyes. When I raised my gunblade at the Sorceress' Memorial, I made conscious decision to strike that word from my vocabulary. I left 'goodbyes' in Esthar the moment she fell into my arms.

…Sometimes makes ending phone conversations a bit tricky, but hanging up works equally as well. And while speaking to some political blowhard, it's much more satisfying.

The point stands: I'll never say goodbye.

But this is where determination and stubbornness clashed. I was hell bent on proving one thing; she was hell-bent on another.

"Fira? That's not saving. That's _killing_. You should be with an equal. A SeeD not… an amateur. A child."

I knew what _that _was about too. My little quip about her being 'an amateur' was something I wish I'd kept to myself.

But I hadn't.

I also wish I that didn't mean it.

But I did.

We were different people then, in different circumstances. I won't deny who we were back then because that would negate who we are now.

"Rinoa, that was four years ago. We've both had a lifetime of experience since then." I found that if I talked slow it helped, maybe it was also better being near the cave floor. "You're not a damn child. You're the strongest woman I know. The strongest person I know."

She was.

Society's hung up on ideals and that strength is defined by some mold. I wasn't lying. Rinoa Heartilly is the strongest person I know; she makes me want to be a better person. Not a better SeeD - a better _person_. Not one person I'd ever known held that much power. Rinoa never asks anything of me – therein lies the beauty. This desire stems from something unknown inside; something she saw in me that I never could.

She hadn't responded to me though, even her muffled cries seemed to have stopped. I hated myself as my mind jumped to the worst possible scenario. Until I heard a sigh, but one born in defeat.

"Strong people don't kill the ones they love. Only amateurs use Fira spells when the air is full of gas… Especially after they were warned not to."

"Stop. Just stop." It came off as low, thunderous growl. I knew how it sounded, but the anger was directed squarely back on myself. Like I said, facing your own mortality puts things in perspective – especially your own stupidity.

"You're that insistent about placing blame? Fine, I'll bite. I'm to blame. _Boyfriends _don't cut lunch short, especially to gather supplies for people perfectly capable on their own. _Commanders_ don't become complacent on missions; complacency breeds mistakes. _Knights_ are supposed to protect, help guide – the only place I guided you was to your death. _I_ was too damn lax, you didn't even have a weapon. Of course you'd use magic to defend yourself."

For the first time, the tears gathering in my eyes weren't a result of the pain. I think saying it out loud drove every point home – _to me_. In that moment, I knew for sure that Rinoa was the one who deserved better. I knew about the gas, but it seemed a waste of resources to come all this way for nothing. Nothing. Hell, I wouldn't even let her climb the rocks to grab some Magic Stones sitting resting on the edge of the Caterchipillar's nest. When it returned, she was watching me and my back was turned. Startled, she only did what came natural – what I'd taught her as a knight.

The most basic of elements: fire.

Fire and Ice. The first two spells the cadets learn. Complimentary. Consuming. Beautiful. Deadly. The easiest to learn, the most impossible to master. Rinoa didn't use Para-Magic, hers was carried from within. In that moment of surprise, she followed the pattern I'd started with her years ago. A conjured low-grade Fira spell is all it took. How she had the strength to sustain the Protect spell after that defies all logic.

I'll say it again – I contemned us; she bought us time.

"I'm angry with myself, Rinoa. I failed on every conceivable level. I'm the child afraid to share his toys because I feel as if nobody else plays right. I'm the amateur. Afraid to trust Quistis. Afraid to trust you. Too shortsighted to see my own incompetence. I'm not a commander. Hell, I'm not even a SeeD. I should be demoted and kicked the hell out of Garden for sheer ignorance. If you want someone to blame – it's certainly not you. But that doesn't matter anymore. I wish it did, but fault no longer means shit. This is it and I don't want to spend our last few minutes of our lives fighting."

_What. The. Hell. _

It slipped out before I was even aware; I'd like to blame being disorientated on the gas, but I couldn't. I was goddamn right; I didn't even deserve to be a boyfriend, knight, commander or, at this point, a human being. No matter what I was thinking, fleeting or not, I needed to be her strength. I shouldn't have told her.

"…We're not going to make it."

There was a tranquility to her words, almost as if she was somehow going to accept what we still didn't want to believe. Maybe because I was the ass that said them and she trusted me.

"Don't." I closed my eyes again, softly berating her for giving me that trust.

I knew I shouldn't close them, I knew the consequences, but I was tired of all the battles – with enemies, with Garden, with Rinoa and within myself. It was constant, but that's how I needed it. I thrived in that type of chaos.

"_The hardest enemy to fight is the one silently lying dormant within yourself."_

Of all people in the world, Seifer said that to me about a year after fighting Ultimecia. I acted indifferent at the time, but I understood the demons – more so now than ever. We all have them hiding inside – some we'd face, some we never will. Again, someone else who will never know their words stayed with me.

Maybe I deserved this, but it was Rinoa who'd pay for my arrogance. The last thing I wanted was for her to think like that – like _me._

The fact was simple: as long as we were alive, there was still hope. Rinoa showed me that.


	3. Chapter III

~o~O~o~

**Chapter III**

~o~O~O~o~

"_Don't."_

She hadn't spoken, heeding my warning. I hadn't meant for her not to talk, but since I'd tried to stop the inevitable running in circles about blame (my guilt), the silence was all I was met with.

I wanted to hear her speak.

I needed to hear her; I just needed _her._

But telling her how much?

Those were words still out of my reach. I'd fooled myself into believing I'd have the strength to say them before it was too late - just like I'd fooled myself into believing we still had a chance. My snapping had been instinctual because I hated how she sounded.

Rinoa Heartilly sounded pessimistic and jaded; she sounded distrusting and callous; it was because she sounded cold - like me.

That scared the hell out of me. I snapped.

She was only repeating what she'd heard (from a damned fool) and coming to terms with reality. I refused to let her last minutes (hours?) of life to hold my cynical outlook. I'd been raised into that way of thinking – questioning, rationalizing, and always reaffirming. Qualities that made me an excellent SeeD and commander, but horrible at just-about-everything-else.

The amazing thing was - she'd also been raised into a similar life, (yet different) but found a way to breakaway, escaping to be a better person. Instead of remaining a socialite with wealth, she left everything she knew behind to help others.

I'll say it again: she's the strongest damn person I know.

The silence (_her _silence) had maybe lasted a minute, the problem was, sixty seconds was a lifetime to us – that's two lifetimes I've lost to fear.

How many more chances would I be given? Not many.

At times, my thoughts were clear and at others I couldn't have spoken my name. All I could say was I was starting to feel like I was somebody else. Merely a guest in this vessel, physically sharing space, but not my thoughts… I knew my arm was still resting on her hip, but I no longer had any sensation where our bodies contacted. I still felt her through my memories, but I was far too selfish to share those with my doppelganger.

And the end, I wanted those to be my last thoughts. Little details. Things that the world would never know – the softness of her skin after a shower, the taste of her peppermint chap stick in the winter, and the heat that radiated off her body as it lay under mine.

My eyes fell closed as I tried to picture everything about her. I wanted to remember everything until the very end. I'd always wondered if your conscious thoughts were truly the last to go. I hoped so. Another theory that I'd be testing out soon enough.

In the darkness there were no sounds, save for our breathing.

And then, I heard it. The loudest sound of all.

Fear.

How close, how far?

Distance was one of many mathematical variables that now decided our survival.

A chilling crack that emanated from _somewhere_ (close or far). Holding onto her, we clung to our memories and, in the silence, we waited.

_Waited._

I have never faced such a moment of utter terror. No battles. No enemies. The odds of survival did not depend on my abilities. I was powerless (deafening silence.)

Finally, it sounded akin to a landslide as pieces of earth rained down. I half expected her to scream; I half wanted to scream but, again, that would've been wasted energy. The onslaught didn't last long but, in perspective, it also lasted forever.

And when the last of the pebbles stopped trickling - a first - _silence was beautiful_.

The cave-in was a cruel reminder of our reality; as if there wasn't already enough.

"…Nobody knows exactly where we're at, do they?"

I don't know what I'd expected to hear from her after that, but it wasn't that (rhetorical) question. Shaking that thought, I realized it didn't matter what I heard, the only thing that _did _matter was _that I heard_ her again. That simple.

Desperately, I wished that she could hear me but, in order for one to hear, another has to speak. I couldn't. I lacked the capacity to tell her the feelings I was too afraid of thinking. She knew. (I hope)

Instead, I chose the cowardly route - answering her question.

"No… not really."

"All right… Thank you for not lying to me."

"You deserve the truth… No matter what."

"Yay." She spoke the word as a sarcastic laugh. I then grunted a reply in return. It made no sense, but we both somehow found humor in our situation. The moment was over just as quickly as it started. We were slowly getting worse, but we both needed to press forward. After earlier, I felt I owed it to her to be the optimistic one. I kept thinking about that glimmer of hope.

"I did send Quistis a message, telling her I'd drop the supplies off tomorrow before class. We're only about five klicks northeast of where we parked. They'll find us."

…Eventually.

When they realize we're gone.

Tomorrow. When she instructs her intro class… _after_ lunch.

They'll find us… or at least our bodies.

But together. We'll be together. Together…

I found it impossible to try to play the optimistic role; bending the fabric of space and time was a far less foreign concept to me. Another job. Another failure.

"Okay." The sound of her voice just barely reached my ears. "…You sent her a text?"

I wasn't sure what she was getting at, my mobile was in the car; I'd lost three to work-related accidents this quarter alone and Cid was growing tired of replacing them. Ironic, the phone survives this time.

"Yes, but it's in the car. It would be useless through rock."

"I know that." I could feel her smile. "I was just amazed you texted someone, _on purpose_, Mr. Anti-Technology."

She knew me. Her smile was like a virus, invisible but continuous. "Whatever. I kept hearing people complain about how it was an impersonal form of communication. I was sold. They had me at _impersonal_."

A diminutive giggle escaped her lips. God she'd never know how beautiful that was. "…Squall, I don't believe that's the adverting hook they were going for. At least maybe you won't murder any more phones."

"Self defense." I shot back.

Again, she laughed – this time it was followed by a hacking cough. I knew that pain; yet somehow she held herself together.

"Squall?"

"Hmm?"

"I think… I think that with the last cave in that-"

"I know."

Cutting her off, I couldn't bear hearing the rest. I knew whatever was in the air was getting worse, something had caused the earth to shift and breathing was becoming increasing difficult. Before long, speaking slowly and being near the cave floor wouldn't make a damn bit of difference.

I believe that was the moment we mutually resigned ourselves, accepting our fate with the slightest amount of dignity and grace. At least when they discovered our bodies now, we would be next to each other, my arm protectively around her - that's if we weren't crushed by rocks and identifying our remains left to the devices of science – it was a brash thought, but it was hard truth.

I was shit at optimism.

Still, people don't want the truth. Those who care will focus on us being together, overlooking the horrific details. They'll romanticize our hell and believe we found last-minute peace. Some people always want to believe the best in death even at its worst. That's only to bring some fake solace to the living; the dead stopped caring long before.

… Maybe we could still find peace.

"Ah, I, um…" She sounded terrified to ask me something and, for once, I was afraid to hear it.

What if she was searching for some final declaration of feelings that I couldn't give? (coward)

I knew she still very much cared. So did I. (words too prosaic for how much)

"Squall, would it hurt… I mean, can…?"

Even on the verge of breaking down, I was impressed how she keeping it together, I sure as hell was about to lose it.

"Is it at all possible for me to…? I know it'll hurt, but I want to lay. I mean, once more."

Her barrier cracked, but I couldn't fault her. They were soft tears, not hysterics, just acceptance… and regret.

"Would it hurt too much if I rested my head on your chest. …One last time."

"_One last time."_ That haunted me, but I couldn't dwell on that.

"It's fine." More than fine. I'd willingly pay any physical price just give her these moments of happiness.

She couldn't see my tears, but they were there. They mixed with the dirt carving a path down my cheeks. Crying wasn't from my weakness; it was the manifestation of allowing myself this happiness… and accepting it.

Defying the laws of just about everything I knew, calling on every ounce of will, she managed to sit upright. Before, when she'd pulled away, she'd been in a sitting position and moved into a laying one - gravity had been her ally then. Now it was an enemy.

I listened to everything; my hearing had somehow become acute since regaining consciousness. Sounds drew the picture in my mind - from the way her body dragged along the dirt lining the floor to her not-so-ladylike grunts. She'd be embarrassed by that fact, but I wasn't. Even minuscule movements became her private struggle, yet I felt a pang of hope _for her_ – maybe she wasn't hurt as badly as I was.

I couldn't help to going back to the beginning of this nightmare. I'd rather not even waste a second thought on those memories but, against my will, they were slowly crawling their way back. The explosion was brilliant, but equally as brief. A blinding wave traveled outwards, devouring all in its path.

(I hate these memories more than I've hated any in my life.)

My back had been turned, (like a true coward) but it saved my eyesight. Spinning around, I saw something from the ceiling break loose, hitting her in the head. It was enough to knock her to the ground; it seemed like a hailstorm, as rocks of all sizes continued to pelt her. I wasn't even sure if she was alive or if she was…. well, if she _was_.

(…not alive)

From there, I jumped from the ledge and did my damndest to even make it to her. The longest journey I'd ever faced was traveled within those few seconds. I vaguely recalled dropping my gunblade and flashlight…and those goddamned Spider Webs that were going to cost Rinoa her life. I covered her with my body, taking what I hoped was the brunt of force; it simply had become too much, the pain too intense. The last thing I remembered was the barrage stopping - the faint iridescent blue glow from the Protect spell. – and then – _nothing._

Silence.

After that, came the bouts of reality, drifting in and out before waking up to this nightmare. What I can't piece, the memories still eluding me, is how I'd gone from shielding her, to finally coming to, sitting against a wall, with her by my side.

I guess those empty memories make no difference; it's these moments that _are _the difference.

It was the fact that, in spite of it all, Rinoa found humor in this situation as she still tried to move.

"God, I'm as gracefully as a Behemoth and Raijin performing a ballet on Pointe."

"That makes us quit the pair. I'm as eloquent as Fujin reciting classical poetry."

Laughing again, I could tell hers was mixed with pain; it had become her emotional outlet.

Finally, she had managed to scoot around. The 'how' was still beyond me. I already knew this would hurt. I braced myself, but didn't want to let on.

_She knew._ And I knew she knew.

"Are you sure?"

_No._ "Yes."

She seemed to hover above me or that's what I believed. I wanted to ask if she was all right, but the answer scared me. But, it caught me by surprise, as I felt her hand touch my face. She was gentle, but ended up poking me between the eye and the nose; it didn't hurt, but it only added to the comedic beauty of our earlier comments.

But, unlike then, the humor ebbed and every ounce of emotion I held (for her) was brought to the surface. I felt as her fingertips slowly moved across my skin until she hesitated. She'd found my tears, but said nothing. She knew that wasn't about being weak, but about being _human_. Her fingers made tiny circles, gently wiping them from my face. She followed my jaw line, tracing her way down the length of my face. She saw me with her hands; looking far deeper than the light could ever show.

I closed my eyes.

I was thankful that my face could feel these sensations and for the first time ever, I could no longer hide behind a mask. I couldn't explain, but I knew this was the far most intimate than we've ever been – even more than making love to her. It went beyond the physical.

I was exposed. (a failure)

_We_ were both exposed.

Our fears were no longer veiled as our mortality bonded us. Her dirt-covered fingertips brushed against my lips. She never lifted them, but I could hear as she struggled to move. I could feel her pain, but I could also feel this need; we both shared it.

A final act of intimacy and she was willing to pay the price, no matter the cost. (strong not weak)

It was the first time the darkness didn't hold an aura of death; the first time that silence wasn't something to fear. It held anticipation. Her fingers guided her as she was finally able to lean over – her lips softly brushing against mine. It was soft and gentle at first, until a dam broke inside both of us.

And all of a sudden, I remembered_ why_ life was important; how we both had so much ahead of us – the future that should be ours. The one that used to scare me; the one that _still_ scares me, but I _wanted_ that fear. I desired it; I desired her. Her touch, her laugh, her love. I'd selfishly take it all, even if I could never give it all back.

I'd never get over the fear, but after waking to silence nothing seemed insurmountable. I knew it would end soon, I know the sacrifice she was making for these stolen moments. The only thing I could taste was blood, all else was forgotten. We both overlooked so much in the kiss, but I wasn't going to dwell on that during what was likely to be our final one.

This might've been my last chance to tell her how I feel, how much she had become a part of my life. Two parts of a whole, but two parts that were individuals in every sense of the word. It ended and again the darkness had taken on a more ominous tone.

"Squall, no matter what, I regret nothing. I love you."

Ironic. I regretted everything, but said nothing. (goddamned coward) I knew she didn't expect words or some grandiose declaration of love. That was one of the things I lo… liked about her; no, so much more than 'like' but I respected. Respect and trust are two things that don't come easily with me and to tell you the truth, she's the only one who's ever earned both.

Respect I held for a select few, but trust I had for none. (until her)

She could no longer hold herself up, and I braced myself for the pain I knew would come. It was an ordeal but she managed to lay down. I held what breath I had. She slowly, carefully lowered her head. She was resting higher on my chest, so it didn't hit the lower ribs that seemed far worse. She went out of the way not to hurt me, even at the expense of herself. Still, there was something inside. I knew. _I felt_. She was actually worse off than I was, but something kept her more together. Maybe it was her sorceress powers; maybe they gave her strength until…

God, why hadn't I even thought of that? I truly was a failure as a knight. She would have to pass her powers onto someone… whoever found us, would… well, it's like Garden will have one of their own wielding powers. Shit, you know what, that's their fight. Rinoa and I have our own battles.

I pushed those thoughts from my head. I've already thought of Dr. Kadowaki, Seifer, and Instructor Aki, I needed to only be thinking of one person - the one who gave everything to love me.

And even though it hurts, our pain goes beyond all description, having her laying on my chest, knowing she was there it felt like… home.

Two parts of the whole once more.

The virus returned. I smiled.

Right now, even the silence couldn't steal this moment from me.

"You know, when I was little…" She paused, stopping to cough. When she coughed I'd felt it too, but I certainly didn't care. All I wanted was to just reach up and pat her back – a simple gesture similar to a handshake or Zell's incessant need to fist bump – but no matter how simple, I couldn't. (useless)

"Sorry," she apologized. "I was saying… when I was little, my mother always talked to me before I went to sleep. Read me bedtime stories or tell me her own… Well, something she said one night didn't make sense. It was near the end, maybe that's why the words stayed with me. But she said that 'one line can change the meaning of an entire story… so sometimes it's better that line is left unwritten."

Hearing her speak that much actually took me by surprise. There was something distant to her words, she wasn't with me. In those second Rinoa Heartilly was a child, laying in her bed, listening to her mother speak. The thought was beautiful. Yet, there was more to this, something that haunted her, but I wasn't sure how much longer she could continue her façade. . Her voice had been starting to slur - not much but, the more she spoke, the more I heard.

"You know… It took me a long to understand how or what she meant… I spent far too much time over thinking it."

"You were young. You weren't meant to understand. But the words stayed with you."

"They did... they did. Too many words that night. Too many."

I wasn't going to ask her what she meant. She'd tell me if she wanted. I wouldn't push, but always listen. I would respond though, because oddly I'd found myself understanding more than what was on the surface.

"Sometimes the answer is easy, we just choose to make to complicated."

"Yeah."

After that answer, I felt her trembling again. She'd have bouts of strength, then fall into weakness - where as I remained the same. I knew now it was the powers, but her body was becoming too weak. And, just like before, _I knew_ that _she knew_. But neither of us addressed it, maybe this was the one thing we found mutual cowardice in.

Then it hit me – I wouldn't ask about the past, those secrets where hers to keep, but maybe this was about the present. _About us._

"So, what would our unwritten line be?"

I really didn't want to hear the answer, but I knew she needed to say it. She'd remained quiet for a few seconds as her body shuddered above mine. I realized that I was wrong - Rinoa didn't need to say it – she had to.

"…And as his alarm clock went off, Squall Leonhart woke up realizing that she was nothing more than a vivid dream and, pushing those thoughts aside, he focused on passing on today's SeeD exam."

"Don't."

There I was doing it again. My self-hatred manifesting itself into a single word of anger.

"Squall, if_ we _weren't real, then we wouldn't be here. I would have never hurt you."

I swallowed as one of my fears was realized. I couldn't put it into words, but I felt alone – like that small child wanting someone to want him. I couldn't say much – I feared we'd end up in the infinite loop of blame.

"There's no changing this. There's no changing us. Rinoa, if I woke up and found out this was a dream, I'd be happier spending the rest of my life sleeping. Please know that, okay?"

I think we were right earlier, something was changing again. It had come on suddenly, but it seemed as if Rinoa had been more sensitive to the effects. Maybe fate designed these last moments together - our kiss was a thank you gift from time, but now it was calling in its chips.

"Okay?" I repeated a little louder. I tried to shake her, a haphazard attempt at best, "Rinoa."

Her body had stopped shaking and the weight seemed to press down further. As if she had been supporting herself for my benefit, but her body had fallen under its own accord.

"Rinoa!?" I cried a little too loud, too desperate. I knew she wouldn't answer. I could still _feel _her, but it was weak.

Again, I cried. Ashamed, abashed, tears fell again. There was no longer someone to wipe them way, to brush their fingers against my cheeks, or to kiss a man who certainly didn't deserve any of those gifts.

We both paid the price for my pride. All she wanted was a simple lunch on the waterfront and I gave her a date with her grave. All she wanted was to order desert, I told her there'd be time later, we could grab some at Garden. There wasn't. I took (stole) that from her too.

No matter what the world makes of this tragedy and celebrates my life. I'll know the truth…and somewhere she'll know the truth …

But SeeD will not let my epitaph be dotted with my failure. Heroic. Brave. Fearless Died trying to save Rinoa; they'll never see that she was the one to save me.

…Because _that_ line would change Garden's story.

I closed my eyes, there's nothing else to do but sleep. (and remember)

I'll keep our memories alive, until I can't any longer. I'll remember everything about her – and just like the others – her words suddenly resound within me. Words she told before she left for the Sorceress Memorial, moments before my last goodbye. They make more sense now; maybe fate wanted me to only understand now… and not back then.

"_Life is a book that's written as you go; when the story ends the memories of the heroes live on through the memory of others."_

In past tense, we would live on in the memories of others.

Together.

And that's a line that needs to be written.

.

~o~O~O~o~

.

Time. has passed. I don't know how much has slipped… by. I'd laugh at the irony. If I woke up only enough for this thought – to remember _her _words.

"_Time will not wait… no matter how hard you hold on… it escapes you." _

I want to escape (from time) my thoughts. My words were the last Ultimecia heard… she's returned the favor. in the end.

...end?

How long has it been since? Rinoa? She. She can't be. I'm helpless. foolish.

We wouldn't make it until tomorrow. We wouldn't make it through the night. I don't even know if she, if she… no I won't think – not that.

I closed my eyes. I was tried (exhausted) and weak (broken) I just wanted to sleep. (fade)

Light. Ashen, opaque (not bright) seeped though my closed eyelids. open?

I fought to open my eyes and wondered if it would be last time. I didn't want to die, for her, for us, but I'd accepted the fate. Together. Laying next to her always brought me a peace I couldn't express; dreams serene and real.

The light drew me in, hypnotic and tempting. A Siren in the dark. I became fixated on its beauty. I wondered what it really was – _if_ it really was… (was I?)

Salvation.

If I were religious, I'd believe it might be a beacon – a silent welcoming by an unspoken deity.

Cessation.

If I believed science, it might be when mind functions ceased to exist; that electrical discharge that sparks life – also claims it.

Either way. The end. (past tense)

My beliefs fall somewhere in between, but time will answer. I want her to smile, to talk… selfish, I don't want to, I don't. rinoa?

I only want that light to be her salvation. If it's real. (Imagined?) Please don't let her suffer, not anymore… We've lingered on this edge for how long - minute, hours? People would say we got our happy ending, but in a tragic way.

There's beauty in our madness.

She could jump; we could fall. Together.

If I willed myself to believe, I would hope there is some sort of afterlife… But I won't declare some newfound religion in these final moments. I've lived my life among hypocrites; I won't let my last conscious choice be to join them. Salvation is for the deserving; I won't pray to some god only on the brink of disaster.

…But I could hope. For her.

If being a hypocrite helped her in any way, then I'd do it. If there is some form of Eden out there – it should be hers. (Rinoa, are you?) Why couldn't I tell you? failed…

i want to fight. i want to give up. i'm tired.

The light is moving, a specter among the darkness… it's beautiful. Like her. her body is still on me, unfeeling, broken (like us) we're together – broken together. I was happy; happy with her, happy next to her. content. if she's gone, so am I.

I closed my eyes, my last thoughts of her (don't let go) of us together.

…I fall.

"Zell, they're over there, I see both of 'em."

"Shit. Irvine, keep her back. Quistis they're going to need everything we got."

"Selph, don't look. Stay back."

"I've got to… please Irvine."

"Squall, Rinoa, can you hear me? Please…"

(No. I can't)


	4. Chapter IV

~o~O~o~

**Chapter IV**

~o~O~O~o~

My mind and body were locked in a battle of wills as I drifted in-and-out of consciousness. Ghostly outlines solidified and then turned into something familiar.

It was like waking from an intense dream where I was caught between two planes; in those fleeting seconds, two worlds coexisted. (familiar?) And even if I can't remember the details of my dream, I sure as hell can remember my emotions in it.

I still _feel _them. They're powerful and unrelenting.

Bits. Pieces. It's all coming back. That's how I know these memories are real – dreams often fade quickly.

It's hard to keep my eyes open but, the longer I try, the easier it seems to get. The first thing I notice is that it's not completely dark.

It's a god-awful, dim, greenish glow that fills my sight. It's familiar; nighttime in the infirmary. If being sick wasn't bad enough, they wanted to make sure you - and everyone else around - looked like utter shit.

I noticed Quistis sitting vigil next to my bed. She wasn't herself, looking tattered and worn down, and it wasn't from the lighting. Smiling softly, she gave nothing else away and when she talked the words came across almost as… _rehearsed_.

"You're awake."

She wasn't playing the role of someone glad to see me awake. I wanted to ask so much – to understand. Honestly, her reaction, itself, had become a question.

"_Again." _

With that single word, came a rush of clarity. Quistis had unwittingly become its prisoner, trapped in my perpetual déjà vu. Her eyes studied me with hesitation before motioning toward the IV.

"We've been through this before."

Maybe that also explained her lack of empathy. There was almost this… sizing me up? To say the least, it was awkward and I felt a definite tension clouding the room.

Quistis kept her distance; there was something to be said about that. She was always the first one called when I was inj…

…What the hell!? (the maelstrom hit).

I don't know what the hell I was thinking or why I was just sitting here so damn gingerly. How could I have…? I needed to get up, needed to find her. (it crashed. i crashed) I needed to be anywhere but here. I tried to move, but was met with physical resistance. (pain. doesn't matter.)

"Squall, you were hurt. You need to remain calm. Squall, listen." Yeah, _she_ can stay calm and listen; she's not the one strapped to their damn bed. "Listen, you have to snap out of it. Don't do this… please. If not for me or you – stay calm for-"

"Ri-" My voice was too hoarse; the word remained silent.

The one thing that I knew (without remembering) was that each time I woke, my thoughts were always with Rinoa. Without fail.

"Yes, _Rinoa._ Stay calm for her. She's fine, Rinoa's fine."

Quistis was standing. When? How? I didn't know. (didn't care) Her hands pressed on my shoulders and constricted like the restraints. (don't touch me. don't) She tried to get me to look her in the eyes. I intentionally did the opposite.

"Please, Squall. Don't do this again. They'll hear you."

I looked.

I can't say for sure why those particular words caught me. There was just this fleeting moment of desperation that I could relate. I watched her shake her head and, even in the dim light, I could see the tears that trailed down her cheeks.

"Rinoa's fine, but I can't. I-I can't-"

"…_handle this." _

She didn't say the words, but I could finish them. Quistis had been exhausted and equally as desperate to believe. How desperate? That was the line I was about to skirt around as I glanced down to my restraints.

"Fine," she snipped. "Squall, I'm trusting you."

My silence continued as she undid the restraints. And, as promised, I didn't struggle. Still, she was outwardly hesitant, but her exhaustion finally won.

Sitting down, she simply asked, "Do you remember?"

I turned away. No. I didn't remember. (…didn't want to)

"We've gone through this before… a few times." She let out a sullen laugh. "At least this went… _well._ Last time, not so much, Dr. Kadowaki had to give you a sedative. I didn't want her – anyone- to hear you until you were… well, _you_. Let's just say you were – determined."

Great.

Her words still told me nothing. Well besides the heavy implication that 'last time' they didn't tell me anything either. If I had gotten answers, I wouldn't be so 'determined.'

I guess, given that brief history, Quistis had decided to wait until her empty words could hold meaning.

"We found you two unconscious in the cave, before we brought you back to Garden."

Was she kidding me with that comment? That was nothing more than stating the obvious.

"…Are you going to tell me the truth?" I asked, wincing involuntarily. I still refused to let the pain wield any power over me.

"Are you not going to endanger your life recklessly anymore?"

Touché. It appeared that both of us had found our 'voices.' Still, she wouldn't get to me.

"Whatever."

Unfortunately, she didn't like my non-answer answer.

"Damn you, Squall! Do you have any idea what you put us through?"

Yes, I did.

I wasn't going to reply, why bother with the obvious?

I watched as Quistis stood again, wearing her resentment and frustration on her sleeve. She wanted to walk away, to make some kind of stand against my defiance.

I hated myself for this; for not knowing what to say. I didn't mean to hurt her, but there was only so much my mind could handle. A few minutes ago, she trusted me enough to remove the restraints. Her anger was fleeting as she watched over me.

With the dim light and the way she wore her concern, she reminded me of a parent. I scowled as she put her hand out to brush the hair from my face; she stopped, just as quickly. Reaching back, she adjusted her glasses before checking the IV attached to my arm – as if that had been her intent all along.

Honestly, she might have done that with any of us; Quistis held the conflicting desires to both protect and teach. Ellone wouldn't have stopped, but she was secure in her role. In that respect, I empathized with Quistis – she was still searching for herself, for the role she was comfortable with, and not the one wanted by others.

Retaking her seat, she motioned to my chest. I wasn't sure what she was doing so glanced down confused… and now I was the one growing irritated.

"It was necessary to put a tube in your throat during surgery. I'd tell you not to talk, but you're too stubborn to listen to me. Maybe I should have Rinoa tell you."

"Wouldn't do any good. Wouldn't listen to her either." I wouldn't. Why lie?

"Probably not." She looked down to her hands. "Nothing ever seems to get through."

The last words were soft but, no matter how they were said, they were wrong. Things _did _get through; more than I even realized. But those were my discoveries – and they were as personal to me as any words I'd ever spoken.

So, I said nothing.

"Fine. Glad to see you're back to normal."

I get it. Me and my 'charming' self. I wished she'd just answer my damn question.

"During morning prep, Selphie came running into the classroom, rather beside herself. Apparently, she and Rinoa had planned on meeting at the Quad. I didn't understand most of what she was going on about – only a few key parts here or there. It was something like – rivalry and Zell – hotdogs and the cafeteria. Please, don't quote me, but it was something that sounded ridiculous along those lines."

She waved her hand, as if dismissing the thought. For once, I didn't disagree.

"She was convinced that something was wrong. You know Selphie and determination – she insisted that Rinoa wouldn't break a ten-month old tradition. So, I caved."

I saw her react immediately as the secondary connotation wasn't lost on either of us. Quistis mumbled a hurried apology, too ashamed to even look at me. I think she believed that she'd committed some great cardinal-sin. This time, it was my turn to 'wave it off' albeit with a head nod as moving my hands wasn't high up on my priorities.

The ironic thing? _This _was one of those times I found a macabre humor in her comment. I'm aware of how socially inappropriate it would be and how it would come across. That's why thoughts like that were better left to myself.

Thankfully, she seemed to forgive herself.

"Basically, she grabbed my hand and dragged me up to your office. While I was up there, I figured I'd also pick up the Spider Webs. …But it turned out – _you weren't there _and eventually we discovered neither was the car."

Great. I realized that we owned our survival to a mixture of Selphie's determination and Zell's fetish over meat byproducts. Maybe I should've been somewhat surprised, but I was too grateful. For once, I wanted to accept their idiosyncrasies at face value. Honestly, I owed Selphie a few first-class train tickets and Zell a freezer full of hot dogs.

"We tracked the car via GPS. Selphie had the foresight to bring Angelo, who turned out to be a godsend. We found you surprisingly quickly after that… but it was well into evening hours by then."

Guess I should inform Zell that he'd be dividing his treasure with 'someone' a lot shorter, and only a tad bit more hairy.

Overall, I knew I probably should have come across more grateful. I was, but I had too many other thoughts on my mind. I found myself checking the time, growing irritated with all these wasted seconds. Watching the clock had become a growing addiction. My need increased, mirroring my ascension through the ranks.

It bothered me that I found myself so focused on time. Over the last few years, I always wanted more (with her). But over the last day, time had been our entire existence.

Time had a way of…

No.

Staring at the clock, it hit me; what we thought was the same day we had lunch - was likely the next morning. The night I doubted that we'd make it through – we already had.

That accounted for some of our missing time, but I was still missing other explanations. How did we make it from the floor to the wall? It was still that déjà vu that I couldn't shake. Did that also we mean we had other conversations that I could remember? If so-

I tensed.

I was blindsided with a feeling that I couldn't describe. (panic. desperation) It was like a surprise attack from an enemy, leaving you with that momentary bout of confusion. Did Rinoa remember any of this?

That terrified me – what if these memories were solely mine? If she didn't remember, then I'd have to question if they were even real. Maybe I had been a victim of a lucid dream?

My memories had to be real. (had to be)

"I want to see Rinoa."

"Squall, we've been over this. I'm sorry."

I closed my eyes.

Hell, _that_ should've been the last thing I wanted to do, but I needed to sort through my thoughts. What sanity I held seemed to be slipping through my fingertips. Before, Quistis had constantly said she was doing 'all right,' but I knew the game. It all came down to calming a patient, by any means necessary. For all I knew, Rinoa was worse than I thought… or didn't even…

No. I won't. _She wasn't._

I needed to know if Quistis' words had been smoke and mirrors. My former instructor might say just about anything to keep me out of physical restraints again. I opened my mouth to give her this opinion. Trust me, I had an opinion – several, in fact. But to my surprise, the only thing that came out was one word.

"Please."

I don't think she was expecting it (disarmed) and when I opened my eyes I saw sympathy.

In that moment, all my fears rose to the surface.

This time, when she stood up, I actually thought she'd leave. Walk out. I can't explain, but I couldn't be alone.

I felt helpless, projecting all my hopes on her. She didn't know. To her I was simply indifferent. Looking down the hall, she scanned the other end of the infirmary. I'd been holding my breath. I didn't realize.

Folding her arms, she looked down at me – a thin smile graced her lips.

I know beauty is subjective. Because even bathed in that god-awful green glow, she'd never been more beautiful.

"You know Dr. Kadowaki is going to skin my hide."

"Least you're in the right place for medical treatment."

I smiled.

Well, it probably came off a smirk/smile hybrid as the painkillers probably had some say in that.

Returning the gesture, I knew Quistis was glad that she'd been able to help; even more, she as glad that I'd accepted it. Without (much) question. This was one of those very rare, if not extinct, moments that I showed even a fraction of myself to someone other than Rinoa.

.

~o~O~O~o~

.

To my surprise, Quistis had become my unlikely champion. I don't know how she'd managed, but she'd pulled off the impossible. I'd been granted a momentary stay of execution. Although Dr. Kadowaki remained hesitant about releasing me on my own recognizance. Far from it. I'd navigated oceans, crossed time and space for Rinoa's benefit; one would think that I could traverse a damned hallway with little ado – and without the company of armed guards – wrong on both accounts.

Maybe that was tad heavy-handed, but I'd let them figure that out in mediation. I had to wonder how bad my behavior had been earlier; the restraints and injected sedative notwithstanding.

I also wasn't thrilled to find out Quistis' deal was quid pro quo. In order to travel 100 feet, confined to a wheelchair, I to agree to a full medical evaluation first – without being, well my 'normal-charming self.'

During my physical, I found that some people can become aggressive if exposed to methane gas. From the whispers of Kadowaki's assistants, I was inclined to agree.

All I wanted to do was to talk - _to see_ - Rinoa but it felt as the whole universe was conspiring against me. Maybe I needed these minutes to gather my wits and make sense of everything. With the help of two students, I found myself sitting in a wheelchair. I felt utterly helpless having to be lifted by strangers.

"Basically, Mr. Leonhart, I'm officially declaring you to be Garden's version of a patchwork quilt. You're being held together by a combination of modern medicine, Para-Magic, and Sorceress' magic. Not to mention stitches, splints, and bandages. You're just a hodge-podge of everything and the kitchen sink."

"Can you please just wheel me down to Rinoa?"

"Yes-yes, but not so fast." I felt a lecture coming on. Every time anyone who was old enough to be one of my parents held clipboard, folded their arms, and gave me disapproving look – a boring lecture was soon to follow. Right now, even Quistis' elemental-status and junctioning lectures seemed preferable.

"No offence Dr. but I…" How do I say this to someone who could never understand the bond?

"Yes. Yes. Yes." She released the break, wheeling me out of the room. "You and your 'buts' Commander Leonhart. Fine. Apparently you know best. You know that I only attended medical school to sustain my burgeoning Triple Triad career. Just wanted to give you a quick head's up..."

"Don't." That familiar word slipped out again. "I mean, thank you. But I can handle it."

_I had to. _

Whatever I, and the others, saw in this room would be a physical manifestation of my failure.

"To quote this_ really_ annoying patient of mine, whatever."

I had no idea how she, out of everyone, could laugh; people thought I was callous, but that was beyond cruel.

"Man, Squall, you look like hell." Scowling I looked up to something I really hadn't expected.

Dr. Kadowaki wheeled me in, before taking a seat at a card table with Zell, Selphie, and Irvine. "Now, Commander Leonhart, as I said - I have quite the Triple Triad career ahead of me. And you are a major buzz kill."

I sat there completely aghast. I didn't know what was more shocking – Rinoa awake and smiling, the card tournament, or that Dr. K just said 'major buzz kill' un-ironically.

"Squall… I'm, so glad to see you."

She was smiling.

Beauty in a word.

I never thought I'd see her again – see that smile. In the dark, I held onto this memory. It was no longer a 'memory' I was experiencing it for the first time. Wiping her tears, she looked down at one of the more pronounced bruises on her forearm. "Squall, don't laugh… but for the two nights, I wouldn't eat dinner until they wheeled me down to check on you.

"Damn, that's one sure-fire way to lose your appetite."

"Irvine! Behave."

Last_ two_ nights? How much time did I lose? She read my mind. It didn't seem real, that was the only thing that got me through it. That… and her smile.

"Lunch was over three days ago. You still owe me pie, buddy."

Yeah. Maybe I _should've_ taken a few moments to listen to Dr. Kadowaki.

"Great now I want pie. Can we order room service?"

"Zell! You and Irvine… you two are going to drive me nuts."

I know other people were speaking, but nothing registered.

"…How?"

I was thankful when Irvine moved me directly next to the bed. At least I didn't feel like the middle ring of a three-ring circus

"Turned out, when my body became too weak, it protected itself by going into a comatose state. From what I gather, it's like a failsafe – to either protect myself or sustain the body long enough to pass on powers. So even if I didn't have the strength to outwardly cast a spell, my body tries to heal itself. They said my injuries were actually worse than yours –Not that the broken bones thing was a contest."

"No, only beating Zell to the hotdogs is." I said.

She laughed, putting an arm over face to cover it. I knew she was embarrassed.

"…Sorry, I didn't want you to find out about that. I figured you'd think it was childish."

"It is." It was that answer that she didn't want to hear "But I hope you and Selphie are kicking his ass."

"24 out of 40 weeks… well, not including this week's _questionable_ victory. He insists it still counts."

We sat there looking at each other. I had no idea why she would want all these people in her room and a card tournament to boot. Then, I saw it. It was faint, but she'd dropped her guard for a second I saw her; the truth. She wanted them there to combat the silence. They kept her awake and that kept her from closing her eyes. There was something inside of us that we'd both share. I wondered if she remembered Seifer's words.

Speaking softly, I didn't want the others to hear. "Do you remember what Seifer said when we ran into him on the docks a few years back? The part where he said '_The hardest enemy to fight is the one silently lying dormant within yourself._"

She laughed. "God, I _do_ remember it; how could I forget."

Why was she laughing? It was one of the few things Seifer said that impressed me.

"Wait, wait… Squall do you remember? I mean, the rest?"

No. I didn't. She must've taken that from my reaction.

"Squall, the whole thing went something like:_ The hardest enemy to fight is the one silently lying dormant within yourself. So, puberty boy, you better get yourself tested who the hell knows what you picked up._"

One line truly does change a story.

.

~o~O~O~o~

.

It was difficult to sleep, if not impossible.

My first night home wasn't turning out too well. Honestly, I never found it easy to sleep before - and that was minus my broken bones, stitches, and more bruises than a Jumbo Cactuar had needles. The painkillers had worn off hours (days) ago, but there was nothing worse than not feeling in control. Luckily, Dr. Kadowaki didn't overly-monitor the intake; rarely did her patients avoid pain medication, especially when they resembled a human piñata.

Exchanging pain-relief for ambiguity wasn't worth the price. It reminded me of waking up in the cave, feeling helpless and lost. Yes, that might've been an extreme example, but I refused to knowingly place myself into that position again.

Glancing over to the television, the screen was too far away to make out details. Thankfully. From here, it looked like one of those late-night-gossip rags… I'd had more than a passing mention on many of them. And, for that reason, it probably was for the best that I couldn't hear the specifics; the ambient noise was already way too annoying.

Looking out the window, I noticed that the moon had moved into center. It was only a sliver but, even the smallest glance, allowed me moments of piece.

It reminded me of midnight.

It reminded me of dancing.

It reminding me of her. (_Rinoa_)

I don't know when I started smiling, maybe it happened… naturally. It wasn't as if the world could see my secret. Rinoa's mother; Julia's words. (…secret?) I circled back to the way Rinoa spoke about her mom and, unwritten lines, with a tinge of regret. She was correct - _to a degree_ - but sometimes changing a story's direction wasn't such a bad thing.

And just like that, I understood myself. I knew what I wanted; what I feared.

I knew the truth. It wasn't about religion, but it was most certainly about hypocrisy.

Reaching for the phone, an awkward laugh slipped out. As not only did I recall Rinoa's comment about a drunken Behemoth on Pointe – I lived it - as I reached for the phone.

By the time I dialed, I'd fallen back onto my pillow. I don't know what possessed me to call; again, it just seemed to happen naturally. I was surprised when she answered quickly.

"_This is what happens when I sleep all day… I'm wide awake. And my keen skills in observation say that you're awake too."_

That's Rinoa. I wouldn't expect anything different. Any normal person would have felt bad calling their girlfriend in the middle of the night and asked her to come over.

But I wasn't normal; _we _weren't normal. (anything but)

.

~o~O~O~o~

.

"Ha. My room was getting the same crappy reception. I don't think I've ever had television on this time of night while I've lived in Balamb. Now I know why"

I watched as she turned my television off as she slowly made her way to the bed. "Seriously, Squall, I didn't even know that TV set worked. I always assumed its sole purpose was a back-up paperweight."

Surprisingly, she wasn't far off.

As she lay down, our combined top-speed rivaled a Tonberry covered in syrup. It took time (…and time) and, a few colorful curse words, but she made it into the bed.

I think we were both quiet as we adjusted to the (near) dark. The only light was from the crescent moon filtering through the curtains.

We lay there for a few minutes, both adjusting to finding ourselves in the situation. When I asked her to come over, she simply answered with a yes. Neither of us mentioned that this was her first time staying. Before tonight, our only nights together were courtesy of hotels far away from Balamb.

I heard her breathing, deep, heavy. (…alive)

We remained 'close enough' but mindful of each other's space. Yet, even without physical contact, I'd only felt like this way once before. In the cave, when she placed her head on my chest, I felt something that ran deeper than my pain… I felt home.

In that moment and this; we found our home.

"Rinoa?"

"Hmm?"

"I never got a chance to say my line."

"Um, uh… what?"

"In the cave, when you said your line about our meeting being only a dream. I'm just saying, I never had a chance to give mine. I don't think that's fair."

"Oh… okay. All right," she agreed, albeit nervously.

I could've turned back but, honestly, that no longer held the appeal it did a few days ago. Perspectives change. (even mine)

"Rinoa, if one line really can change a story, then I want a chance to say mine." I took a deep breath, it was nice not coughing every time. "And when they woke up, they were still together and he realized something - he loved her with all his heart."

She was silent, but like before I could feel her.

"I love you."

After I said it. I closed my eyes and listened… to _nothing._

But there was no longer fear, there was tranquility; there was still the unknown, but the unknown had taken on a new feel.

In the silence, we felt hope.

.

~o~O~O~o~

.

I'd like to say that I dropped everything to be with her after that.

I'd like to say that I resigned, making Garden a highlight on my resume.

I'd like to say that I don't go on missions or spend countless hours in my office.

I'd like to say a lot of things, but that's not the story I'm telling.

The first night that we were both out of the infirmary, Rinoa stayed over and then the next night… and then the one after that. That was two years ago. I'm still not ready to make any formal commitment, but that's a battle I'm slowly preparing for – know your 'enemy' and all that.

I _know _she likes coffee and orchids and her greatest rivalry is between her and the alarm clock.

I _know_ she's stubborn and impulsive and for whatever reason she loves me.

And I know I love her, even if I've only said it that once.

She knew; she always knew.

They'll always be unknowns and things we can't avoid but, as long as we come prepared, we work best as a team; _together._

And, as for a single line to change this story again? _Our_ story? There are many.

But like Julia Heartilly told her daughter many years ago - sometimes it's better left unwritten. Although, one day, I think I'll have a few things to add to that for my daughter. (Yes. The most sobering thought yet.)

…The best stories, like the best advice, are the ones that stick with you.

…The best thing about a story is that it doesn't have to make sense in _that_ moment; the best stories told are the ones that you can only fully understand later.

They make you think.

They make you remember.

And sometimes, you don't need that final line, that one thing that would change everything that preceded it. Because our story may not be perfect by any means, but it's perfect for us.

.

~o~O~O~o~

.

**Author's Notes**: This was posted for the "Where I Belong." It was a one month – August, 2012. The goal is was to past writers and artists with the newer generation, having a family 'fandom family reunion.' of sorts.

'where silence has lease' broke from my normal style; I wanted to try to something different and I was really pleased with how it turned out. There were a lot subtle things in here that I didn't say outright, but only hinted at. But, I will address a few things.

As for Rinoa, yes, she had gone into a comatose state before Squall passed out. I figured that canon showed that when your body is adjusting to the powers you go into a 'coma,' it would be logical that her body would do the same thing when there was no way for her to pass on her powers. So, basically it was a state of regeneration. Since she and Squall share a bond, there was hint that she also helped sustain him.

When Squall mentioned being a hypocrite about praying for salvation last minute, that also held true for saying he loved her. He didn't want to say it just because he thought it was the end; just like he wouldn't have said it before/during intimacy – anything where he saw as an 'expected' situation.

Guess that's about it. I hope you liked the different style. I've written over a million words here, but was terrified to do something from Squall's point of view. Hopefully, it worked. Thank you again for the years of support; the fandom truly is my 'other' family.

Kris – Ashbear/Eternal Tiet


End file.
